


Chances Are

by Gadhar



Category: The Expendables (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-25
Updated: 2015-04-25
Packaged: 2018-03-25 15:24:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3815434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gadhar/pseuds/Gadhar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I did it to piss you off. I did it because I was drunk. I did it because I wanted to and it fucking felt amazing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chances Are

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own the Expendables because we all know what would happen if I did.

Galgo shifts on the doorstep, soaking wet and shivering and all sorts of awkward that Lee doesn’t even have words for. There’s ten things going through mind right now and seven of them are violent. 

Maybe he shouldn’t have made Galgo wait in the cold while he sorted through those things but, well here they are and he’s finally managed to brush away all the violent thoughts. “How did you find me?”

No one knows where he’s at, only Barney and Tool and regardless of how hunky-dory Barney is with the new team, Lee doesn’t think Barney would just hand out his address all willy-nilly, even with where they’re standing now. Unless he was recommending motels, in which case they’re are a list of better places than this shithole. 

“Uh, I...I have– Can I please come in? It is cold, very cold.” Galgo’s teeth chatter and click together, his face too much like a lost pup and Lee sighs, tilting his head to the side before raising his arm from barring the way. 

Galgo zips in with some of that speed Lee glimpsed briefly on the Stonebank’s mission but he still manages to snatch the Spaniard back. “Stay here, management has a hard enough time with me already without you dripping all over the place.” 

Lee leaves Galgo standing on the glorified doormat of a foyer, jerking out a suitcase from under the lone bed and going through it. He comes back with a probably clean towel and sweats he thinks will fit Galgo even if they’re a bit long. 

“Here. Now stop shaking like a wet dog all over the place.” Lee turns away, taking the time to grab a six pack from the fridge.

When he turns back, Galgo’s still standing in the same spot, towel wrapped around him with wet clothes pooled at his feet, looking around with feet firmly planted in place until Lee gestures at the small table complete with one plastic chair and a milk crate. 

He lets Galgo have the chair.

“Just so you know, you’d be dead right now if I wasn’t already drunk.”

Galgo blinks at him, a last set of shivers working their way out of his body. He’s smiling for a good two seconds before he realizes Lee’s not joking. “Oh.”

“What do you want?”

“I...um...”

“You came here and I gave you a beer. You better have an answer.”

Galgo flinches and Lee can at least admit to feeling a little guilty. He should probably be less of a dick to the guy anyway. 

“Sorry.”

Galgo shrugs and there’s a sudden...deflate to his posture. The tension gone as he sits there, looking more tired and sorry for himself than Lee feels which is really saying something. “You are friends with Mr. Ross, yes?”

Lee stiffens, hand clenching on his beer, resisting the urge to throw the damn thing. “Why?” He says that instead of the truth. Instead of _I don’t fucking know. You’d think, but the fuck cut me out so..._ So he doesn’t know where he stands with Barney, Doesn’t know if friend applies anymore. 

“I just...He is very...difficult, no?”

“Yes,” Lee hisses back because he’s wary of where this conversation’s going and difficult is an understatement at best. “Again, why?”

“I...the guys, they tell me you are close to him and I...” Galgo’s hand tightens in the towel, pulling it tighter around himself. “I think I may have messed up.”

Lee’s brows raise at that. It’s only been a few months since Galgo joined and he was already annoying to begin with. And if that wasn’t enough to get him on the team’s bad side then Lee doubted very much would. “And you’re telling me why? If you’re worried about losing your place on the team, you need to talk Barney.”

“Do you not have any say in the matter?” 

Lee frowns, swirling the last of his beer in his mouth before opening another. “What makes you think I would?”

Galgo tilts his head, like he’s thinking deeply about something and his eyes even unfocus a little. It’s kind of eerie, the look on his face, shadowed in the flickering light of the lone bulb from the kitchen. The he straightens abruptly and downs his beer in one go, sad grin on his face. “I think I am getting it now.”

Lee ignores the flare of irritation at those words, he’s never been known for his patience, and now is certainly one of those times where the little he has is running thin. So he doesn’t say anything and just waits for Galgo to share whatever epiphany he’s having. 

“See, I misunderstood. I thought you two were close, but I see I was wrong. He’s not close to you is he?”

Lee balks, choking on his beer. “The fuck you getting at?? And you better be real sure about whatever the fuck you’re about to say.”

“I just mean, you were friends and maybe one of you – probably you, judging by the way you’re glaring at me right now, please stop that – wanted something, shall we say, different? And he, being the man he is, turned you down.”

It’s not a question and Lee bites the inside of his cheek at the swell of anger and memories that come with his chest tightening because Galgo is far too close to the truth. In fact, he’s pretty fucking dead on and Lee does not like that. “Get out.”

Galgo cocks an eyebrow at him but doesn’t move. 

“Get. Out.”

Again, no movement and Lee’s standing before he really thinks about it , hand palming the knife he had in his pocket, blade flicking out with ease and—

“Do not misunderstand me friend, I had a different notion in mind when I came here, but I am not mocking you. In fact, it seems we have a similar problem.” Galgo’s standing too and Lee will give him credit for matching him stare for stare, but then, you can’t really be in there line of work if you’re faint of heart.

“What are you talking about?”

“I mean to say, that when I ‘messed up’, I made much the same mistake you did. Please... sit down?”

Lee blinks down at the cold hand on his wrist, it’s Galgo’s and Lee’s not sure what the hell is wrong with him that he never noticed the hand until now. But he sits because there’s an insistent calm in that touch and he’ll have to admit that even with the mess his mind is, the mess of emotions, he’s curious.

“Barney is...I made the mistake, I think, of...developing...feelings...for him.”

Lee would laugh if...if he didn’t feel the same. He’d laugh about how ridiculous this all is. The way he’s sitting here with Galgo like a couple of teenage girls. But there’s a wry grin to Galgo’s somber expression and there’s enough sadness there to match Lee’s anger.

“He has a way of doing that,” Lee says and he’s sure he’s probably got his own wry little grin now. “It’s fucking infuriating, how much he cares about his team. About me. But he’s so fucking distant, and cold. You telling me you made a move and he turned you down?”

Galgo shrugs. “Something like that.”

Lee doesn’t push. If only because if their places were reversed, if he was the one coming in to talk to someone he barely knew—already slipping that far out of the comfort zone, all pure desperation—he wouldn’t want someone pushing. If only because if it was him, he probably would have never made it this far to begin with. “So, why come here?”

Galgo’s eyes blink back at him owlishly, already washed of their usual vibrant color, dull and tired. And he doesn’t say a word. Just stares and keeps _staring_. 

Lee nods. Knocking back the rest of his beer, Lee stands. “Come on then.”

 

 

He does not regret it. Not one bit. It soothed the ache just enough, tempered the fire of his anger just enough, and he supposes it clamped down on the self-destruction just enough too; if only because now, in the morning with the smell of damp mold thick in the air and the paltry bit of sunlight that bleeds through the curtains after fighting its way around the surrounding buildings, he does not have the desire to drink. That could also be the massive hangover talking too.

Lee lays there, waiting as his sense come alive and start pounding him with sensation. The room smells, he can hear the thump of some stereo three doors down, and the alarm clock is blaring 12:00 p.m. at him. 

There’s a brush of fingers over his neck, strong and firm, prodding, and Lee doesn’t need to be hit with the flood of memories from last night because he re-lived them in his dreams, he woke up with them, and he can remember every detail vividly. So there’s no surprise to see Galgo staring down at him, oddly quiet and calm, nothing like the damn jitterbug they all suffer on missions. 

“I made breakfast. If you are interested. Though, I suggest eating, regardless of how sure you are that you’re going to throw it back up.”

Lee closes his eyes and the fingers stay on his neck for a moment before disappearing again, Galgo’s footsteps oddly soft on the noisy laminate floor. Lee breathes in and wonders if he _should_ regret it, feel guilty. Maybe he just doesn’t have the strength for anything but the anger anymore. 

 

 

They don’t talk about it. Ever. And nothing seems to change either. There’s no awkwardness like Lee half expects. No lingering stares or shared looks from across the room. 

Maybe it’s back to what they used to do back in the service. When the pictures and crappy vids weren’t worth the effort and the only thing worse was the blue balls. Lee had kept his distance then, but he was aware of what the others did. Had really wished he wasn’t the kind of guy who couldn’t cheat on his girl too. It would have made shit so much easier at the time. Having had another warm body to think about, another hot mouth, anything instead of the rancid rolling guilt that had surfaced anytime he tried. Especially after she ditched him. 

Lee hadn’t pegged Galgo for that type of guy; the no strings, the one night stands. Though, Lee hadn’t pegged himself as that guy either but...

But if it is back to that, that kind of hushed agreement, keeping the shamed thing stashed away in the dark, he can be sure Galgo won’t say a word. In fact, it’s almost too late before he realizes _he’s_ the one that might kiss and tell. 

Because Barney’s sitting next to him, so close that Lee can smell his cologne and it’s an old favorite—Lee’s personal favorite. The kind of scent that has Barney smelling sweet like vanilla and heavy like leather. The kind that brings up log cabins, old sweaters, and fireplaces. Old and fine. Smooth. Like fucking Frank Sinatra—and he wants to open his mouth and just say it. _I fucked Galgo. Had his mouth on my cock. My cock in his ass. His cock in my ass. I fucked him you fucking bastard. I did it to piss you off. I did it because I was drunk. I did it because I wanted to and it fucking felt amazing._

But he won’t say it. Because he’s scared of how true it may be. How true it might not be. He won’t say it because he knows his mouth will just go off then. _How could you throw me away like that, leave me? Don’t I mean shit to you? I thought we were friends. I thought we were_ —and he’d probably get the shit beat out of him at that point because it’s his fucking fault really. He never told Barney what he wanted, couldn’t expect the man to be a mind reader. And whining like that would no doubt grate on Barney’s nerves and control the same way it does Lee’s to even _do_ the whining. The begging. 

Lee squashes that line of thought. No doubt it will hit him later. Some time in the night where he’s horny and lonely and he’ll think about those words he wants to say and what Barney would probably say and what he _wants_ Barney to say and no doubt he’d hit those thoughts of Galgo and that aching-burning-needful burn of his ass and the cant of Galgo’s hips as he slid home and the _Fuck there–yes!–fuck–fuck–fuck_ and he’ll come and it’ll be hard and wet and it will hurt. Hurt somewhere in his chest; some knife twisting just slowly, always just that little bit more.

Lee turns his head, tuning into his surroundings at the unfortunate moment to hear Barney laugh. That sortof deep rolling laugh, calm and quiet like Barney himself and Lee blinks at the flash of all the times he’s made Barney laugh—real and deep and rich.

Barney’s elbow knocks against his, a rough ‘Funny, ain’t he Christmas?’ and Lee throws on that thin smile he’s managed to dig out for these situations. Dug through the crystal glass shatters of his soul for—he can nearly taste the grit of it on his tongue—but anything for Barney. Always anything for Barney. 

Except this, except Barney throwing an arm around his shoulder, pulling him close. Pulling him into that vanilla-leather scent and those memories and the rumbled laugh Lee can feel in his own chest and no. Not this. He can’t do this and he jerks away and he can hear the startled calling of his name. Said with that voice that makes him want to turn around and the only reason he doesn’t is the anger and the burn and it’s burning and flaring and exploding and he’s outside and he can’t breathe—

Hard brick on his hands, digging in, taste of blood in his mouth, what the fuck is wrong with him? What the fuck is he—

“Lee?”

—doing? He can’t breathe, he can’t—can’t stop shaking, can’t stop—god when the fuck can he hit something? Anything. He needs—

“Lee.” And he’s turning and there are lips, soft and—

Lee dives forward, captures the lips and shoves his tongue in, tears at the shirt with his hands and they’re turning again, backing against the wall, warm body between him and it and there are nimble fingers on his fly, chill against bare skin and stroking and fuck—

Lee’s hands grip hips hard, crushing force, the kind he uses to fight and he just needs something to hold on to because he’s slipping; slipping deep into darkness, far into insanity, and out of control. He needs an anchor, and if this is all he can get then—

He’s driving hard, cock out and sliding against another, the friction is hot and burning and the lust is mixing with the anger and Lee bites at the lips yielding under him, digs his fingernails into the thin skin covering hip bones and there’s the low pants of fucks and the hard plane of chest against his, and Lee growls low and in his throat and the slick, fluid slide is driving him up the wall and the faster he moves, the less he thinks until he can’t think about anything but the sensations and—

There’s that disconnect. The final snap and he’s coming and his eyes slide shut and he knows he’s breathing hard, knows he’s leaning forward, all that rage and energy spilling out of him and his mind is...is blank and it’s the best Lee can ask for. That sort of freedom.

When he opens his eyes—nearly slamming them shut again at the feeling of lips on his cheek, his neck, breath breezing by his ear, whole body tingling and his mind buzzing—he reaches his hands up, tangles his fingers in that unruly black silk hair and moves them both until they’re leaning their foreheads against each other; until he’s staring into Galgo’s wide and tired eyes. _Warm_ eyes, despite the question in them. 

There’s no real shift of feelings, because Barney is still there, still lurking and lingering and clinging and Lee doesn’t think he’ll ever get away from it but there’s a hole. A piece that was missing and something has slipped into its place—smooth edges and shiny surface, bright against the other pieces—and it’s not perfect, won’t ever be but it’s full and it’s there and it’s Galgo. 

“Me?”

“Yeah...fuck yeah.”


End file.
